


It's Freezing In Mount Snoozey

by sexywiddlebaby



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexywiddlebaby/pseuds/sexywiddlebaby
Summary: [018]Dan is lucky in many ways, but when it comes to sharing a duvet with Mr. Blanket-Stealer Hanson himself, it means somebody ends up getting cold toes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have an idea for a thriller I want to write, but whilst I come up with motives and methods, I'm writing some cute stuff in the meantime. (Maybe a Kinktober piece is in the works too. Only time will tell.)
> 
> ...Anyway, please enjoy what is here now.

In the midst of a dark bedroom, two young men, with a fresh love blooming between them, lay disturbed in their flowerbed. Unable to sleep, Danny stares up to the ceiling, gradually increasing the volume of his huffing. Beside him is a wasteland of cool air and a vacant middle-ground of bed. Let your eyes wander beyond the dust and musk cordial barrier -- the horizon reveals a sudden mountain of feathers and softness, topped with a layer of warmth, like how the snow decorates the peaks of Mount Fuji. Peacefully snoring and unaware of his boyfriend's disgust, Arin is tucked dreamily inside a neatly-rolled _uramaki_ , and not one of the delicious kinds. No, this is spoiled sushi. Danny grows more and more impatient and envious as Arin's snores melt into the bed with content.

At this point, Danny has two options: to ride out the night without a warm embrace or to risk his share of the covers for his relationship. Arin didn't take lightly to being roused from his beauty sleep. With tentative fingers, Danny begins the crossing of no-man's-land. A minute that feels like an hour passes without much progress. His heart lurches between the pit of his stomach and the tip of his tongue, craving for something exciting to happen; for anything but nothing to happen. Shaking, Danny grabs a fist of the rice-like outside, the grains oozing like liquid mercury along his clenched hand. As if the sweat on his brow wasn't enough of a distraction, his arm transforms to stone after the realisation that Arin was about to roll over, and the world grinds closer to a mechanical halt.

Panicking, Danny wrenches the cover with some impressively garnered strength, heaving Arin's body into a tidal wave of violent motion. Arin gains some consciousness as he spins out of his bundle before the air carries him away from the bed. A confused moan is the only sound he can make before he meets the edge of the bed, and then -- **_CRASH!_** \-- he topples onto the floor. Danny, assuming the fetal position, shudders into the mattress out of some dignified sympathy. He inhales sharply through the gaps of his teeth and scrunches his eyebrows. Oops.

More monumental seconds pass.

Danny resumes his plight and reaches for the significantly emptier covers. Without the _nori_ in the sushi, and with victory in reach, he tugs the mass of pleasing fabrics towards him. He begins to think of the first lines of his will as he waits for the inevitable rise of Arin Hanson, only for the duvet movement to be stopped dead in its tracks. Another, more eager hand, is digging into it. This one pulls sharply, snatching Danny's hopes away faster than you could ever extinguish a flickering candle. The covers flop off the bed to the presumed grave of his boyfriend (or at least, the obliterated earth where he now lays), and all Danny's body acquiesces is the newly discovered guilt to form and creep between his joints.

"Night," Arin hisses from the carpeted floor.  
Danny mentally screws the draft of his last will into a metaphorical paper bin and takes a new sheet of paper out of his desk. He takes the feathered quill, dips it gently into a vial of writing ink, then drags it against some scrap: _once, ...twice, ...three times_. He clears his throat and connects the quill's tip with the yellowed parchment and writes the phrase _"Making it up to Arin"_ in exaggerated cursive. Boy, would this be a long piece to write!

He begins by detailing the early morning start, and the complimentary breakfast-on-the-bedroom-floor service. Although leftovers are stacked on every shelf of the fridge, he decides to make this a more special deal than just typical lasagne mornings, and the quill draws out assortments of hot pastries and caffeinated drinks from the local café. Continuing on, Danny will present the offerings with a handwritten card...or two, or three. They will positively reassure Arin of Danny's love for him, and also excessively remind him to enjoy the food before it gets cold.

Danny signs his work, then migrates out of his headspace and back into the cold realm of the flowerbed. Satisfied with his solution, and hearing the grumpy Heffalump snoring away into the woollen rug of the earth below, Danny smiles to himself.  
"Night, Arin," he mutters, before the numbing cold accepts his request for some rest.


End file.
